


Fire Away.

by iwilltry_tocarryon



Category: The 100 (TV)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-20
Updated: 2015-03-20
Packaged: 2018-03-18 19:11:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,075
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3580713
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iwilltry_tocarryon/pseuds/iwilltry_tocarryon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Just a short, AU, one-shot. Lincoln teaches Octavia to fight, though the winner is not easy to determine.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fire Away.

“Why don’t you ask Lincoln?”

Those were the first words muttered from her brother’s lips when she asked him to teach her how to fight properly. 

Octavia knew how to fight, but not the proper form or the specific techniques. She just knew how to channel the pent up rage and anger inside, wildly throwing elbows and going all out. She had managed to win a few fights with that mindset, when her smart mouth got her into trouble, but there was really no strategy to it. She wanted to learn the basics.

Leave it to Bellamy to point out her first obvious choice of a teacher. Of course she thought of Lincoln first. She rolled her eyes, sass clinging onto every word she spat. “Great idea, why I didn’t think of that myself is beyond me.” She let out a huff. “I did, and he kinda already said no.”

Bellamy kinked up one eyebrow. “When has a ‘no’ ever stopped you from doing anything?”

Quickly, she snapped her jaw shut, realizing the answer to that question was never. She had never once listened to the word ‘no,’ though she had heard it many times. It made no logical sense for her to start now. 

“He mentioned going to the gym a little while ago, so he should still be there if you hurry your ass up.”

Jolted out of her daydream, she turned to glare at her brother, making a face before leaving the house. Sometimes it felt like Lincoln talked to Bellamy more than her, which she couldn’t totally complain about. It was nice that they got alone and were bonding. It was just so damn annoying when Bellamy knew things before she did, although that wasn’t often.

She had been to the gym with Lincoln a few times, though they usually separated and did their own things, but she knew exactly where the place was located. Taking the back road, she abruptly turned left into the parking lot, cutting her car off after whipping it into the parking lot. Good thing he wasn’t riding shot gun or she would’ve had to listen to him bitch about her reckless driving. Although, she secretly thought he enjoyed it and just wanted to pretend like he didn’t. 

It was a local sort of gym, not one of those big name, chain places full of just clunky cardio machines and nothing else. It was a bare necessities type of place, free weights lining the walls, punching bags hanging from the beams. There was high energy and adrenaline coursing throughout the place at a steady pace, like blood pumping through one’s veins. The gym thrived on adrenaline; it was crucial, just like blood was to the body. And there was also a shit ton of blood being spilled as well.

She watched as one man ate mat hard, whacking against the ground as she strolled through the entrance. She didn’t flinch when the sound echoed around because by that point her eyes had wandered over to land on a familiar, muscular back.

There he stood in all his glory, all 6 foot 2 inches of him, back turned towards her as sweat trickled down. She drank in the sight, appreciating the way the liquid pooled in the grooves of his muscles when he flexed before sliding down his back as he relaxed. There was nothing more beautiful than a half-naked, chest-panting Lincoln, critically observing two other fighters in the ring. She couldn’t help her drifting eyes, coasting along his backside.

He instantly stiffened, feeling a pair of eyes leering, drilling holes into him from behind. He was used to being watched, but not this intently, which meant it could only be one person. Turning around, his brows furrowed in confusion as he watched Octavia saunter over towards him. “Hey, what are you doing here?”

Her hands settled across her chest as she lazily shrugged. “Decided ‘no’ wasn’t really that good enough of an answer for me.”

He groaned, great, they were back to this whole training thing again. It’s not that he didn’t want her to learn; she was strong and extremely tough. There was no doubt in his mind that, with a little coaching and guidance she could be even more amazing. He just couldn’t be the one to teach her. “Octavia, I’m…I’m not really a teaching kind of person when it comes to this stuff.”

Her mouth broke out into a full on grin. “Well that’s even better, because we both know I’m not really a student kind of person either. Rules and regulations aren’t my thing.”

“Yeah I know,” he mumbled under his breath before speaking at a louder volume. “Why didn’t you just ask Bellamy?”

“I wanted it to be you. You’re strong, smart, and dedicated. If you can’t teach me, then no one can.” She locked eyes with him for a moment. “Besides Bell told me to ask you. I swear I feel like I’m going back and forth between parents. Asking one, only to have them tell me to ask the other. I’m getting whiplash here, and I’m not taking ‘no’ for an answer. I can be patient,” she cheekily grinned.

Lincoln snorted, playfully rolling his eyes. “Yeah, you’re the Princess of patience alright.” He couldn’t contain the smile threatening to spill over onto his tanned facial features. 

She pretended to be offended, letting a scoff out. “Don’t be silly…I’m the Queen.” Her heart automatically twitched inside her chest when he smiled. It wasn’t that he didn’t smile often, but every time he did it was contagious. She wanted to appear firm, but the corners of her mouth tugged up into a light smile. She couldn’t control it; he was just so damn gorgeous when he smiled.

Looking back at her, his eyes panned down her body, taking in her determined, statuesque stance. There was no evident wavering, meaning she was serious about this and wasn’t going to give it up anytime soon. That meant if he couldn’t talk her out of it, he was going to give her hell. Chances are she’d get annoyed enough to just say forget it.

Sighing, he uncrossed his own arms, not commenting when a wide grin broke out on her face before she flung herself into his arms. Naturally he caught her. “Fine, but you’re gonna have to actually listen to me and do what I say without complaining—“

She chortled, “Yeah right. You do you realize who you’re talking to right?”

He ignored the statement, pulling away from her body. “We’ll start with the basics. Go meet me over by the punching bags,” he motioned with his finger to the opposite side of the room.

Sauntering off, she put a little extra sway in her hips, feeling his eyes lingering on her backside. If she had known this whole time all she had to do was crash his workout, she would’ve done this months ago when the idea came to her. At least Bellamy had a good idea for once, though she would never admit that to him.

Within a few minutes she heard a bag dropping down, landing with a thud on the ground. Shifting through the contents, Lincoln finally found the tape he was hunting for, taking short strides until they were standing almost toe-to-toe.

“Alright, lemme see your hand.” His eyes briefly met hers as she placed her hand in his. Lincoln had to repress the warm feeling spreading throughout his body produced by the feel of her hand in his. Securing the tape around her thumb, his own thumb stroked the lines on her palms as he wound the tape around her hand. When his fingertips traced over the pulse point of her wrist, he could feel the rush of her blood pounding.

He finally looked up to see her intently following his every move, more focused on what he was doing rather than him. Tearing the tape off, he tucked the excess underneath before expertly wrapping his own hands.

“First you’ll just watch me.”

A complaint bubbled to the surface, but as soon as Lincoln started stretching it sank like dead weight to the ocean floor. It took every fiber in her body not to twist and contort her head to follow his every move. 

Granted that’s what she was supposed to be doing.

“Stretching usually works best if you actually execute it, not just watch me.” He looked at her from over his shoulder.

A glare encompassed Octavia’s body, but she caved, stretching her limbs out, feeling her muscles expand with every motion. She knew it was important, but she did not sign on for this. Now, she wouldn’t mind going back to just watching Lincoln though.

Eventually he straightened his body back up, Octavia following suit, rolling up vertebrae by vertebrae. His eyes stayed locked on hers for longer than necessary. She was always beautiful, but never more so than when she was determined.

He shook his head, turning back around to face the bag. Usually he only used this when he had a lot of pent up energy and tension, both of which were flowing steadily through his body at the moment. It was also a good teaching method to start with.

When he began striking, Octavia was mesmerized, even though she had seen him fight once or twice before. Somehow, this felt different, more controlled, which was even more of a turn on.

His punches, jabs, and kicks were always prompt and calculated with such precision. There was no doubt he knew what he was doing. He looked as though all of this came natural, moving like a giant gazelle. He was in his element here.

It was so easy to get lost in his movements, like a hurricane spinning round and round. Octavia felt like she was in the center, taking it all in without reaping the damages until he abruptly stopped.

“Easy enough, think you can copy the moves?”

Her mind skidded to a halt, while her feet stood still. She was still spinning, but eventually she moved to stand in front of the lightly swaying bag. “I’m pretty sure I can manage to hit a stationary object.” Sass oozed from her mouth, but Lincoln was used to it by now. 

She swung at the bag a few times before he stopped her.

“Obviously you can hit a stationary object,” he mocked, “but none of that would fly if this was a real person.”

She refrained from rolling her eyes and saying ‘no dip Sherlock,’ figuring that was a surefire way to make him quit before they even started.

“You do pack a lot of power behind your punches though, I’ll give you that.” A light smile spread across his face, beaming with pride. “You just need to take a deep breath and center yourself before you start swinging.”

Complying with what felt like an odd request, she inhaled, trying to center her body before even attempting to swing. She didn’t even land a second punch when he interrupted.

“Look at your feet, they’re a little too close together for you to find your stability. Just—“ he didn’t wait for her to adjust her position. Taking the matter into his own hands, he nudged her feet apart, grabbing her arm when she wasn’t prepared for the shift.

“Some warning would’ve been nice,” she lowly muttered under her breath. She knew he could still hear her though, which made it all the more fun.

“Sure, next time I’ll try to warn you. And when you run into trouble, maybe you can ask the person to warn you before they start fighting.” He smugly grinned up at her. “Now try again, it should be easier to swing harder and faster.”

Though he was smug about the whole ordeal, he could afford to be because he was right. She could feel power surging from her fist as it connected with the bag, propelling it backwards a few inches.

“Good,” he interjected after a few minutes. “But you’re bending forward too much.” His hand hovered just below her breasts, right along her solar plexus.

Octavia instantly let her arms fall to the side. She said nothing, but her body readily went in the direction Lincoln was trying to push her into. 

His other hand went around her back, “now start again. Same as you were doing before but every time you try to move forward my hands will be there to stop you.”

He definitely stopped her alright. The Great Wall of China would’ve been easier to move. It was a bit hard to concentrate at first, what with his close proximity and warm hands against her stomach. She could feel the heat radiating beneath his fingertips, slowly seeping into her own skin.

Refocusing, she finally started swinging once more. Eventually she couldn’t even feel his hands encaging her body. That’s when her eyes shifted down momentarily to find he had removed the childish bumper guards from around her waist. Not that she was complaining about his hands being on her.

“You just needed to know your limits,” his eyes bore into hers as she quickly broke the connection and turned back around. Octavia was a natural at this. Just for good measure every once in awhile he would switch things up, throwing out an uppercut as he watched her fist strike from below. 

Reaching across her frame, he tucked her elbow further into her side after the first uppercut. “Keep your elbow in tight, that’s where you draw your power from. Otherwise you’ll just be throwing elbows all over the place like usual.”

A snippy retort worked its way up her body, but fell dead upon her lips when his breathe tickled the fallen strands of hair. A shudder rippled through her body, goosebumps rising along the surface of her skin.

Lincoln was actually surprised; she took direction well and carried out everything to a tee. Hooks however, weren’t her thing. Left or right. Not that she couldn’t do it, but her form was skewing the results. That could be worked on another time though. 

“That’s probably enough for today, we can finish off with some laps to cool down.” He knew she could physically handle more, but nothing irritated her more than going at a snail’s pace. This was how he worked though, so if she wanted him to teach her, this was his preferred method. And maybe it was a little fun to piss her off. 

“What?” She half-squeaked, half-panted out, trying to get her ragged breathing under control. There was no way in hell they were done for the day. All they had done so far was punch a bag. “We can’t be done, we haven’t even started. I still have a shit ton of energy.”

He chuckled, watching as she struggled to breathe normally. “Yeah…I can see that.”

Octavia only flipped him off as her hands landed on her hips, willing hot air out of her lungs to make room for more.

“If you have so much energy left, drop and give me 10.” He sassed at her, biting his cheeks in order to keep the smile at bay. 

“What!” She couldn’t help but exclaim, “no way.”

“Fine, now it’s 20. Wanna see how far you can push your luck?”

She wanted to push something all right. She wanted to push him off a cliff, but nevertheless she dropped to her knees, placing her hands out in front. This felt like P.E. all over again, except she never listened to the teachers unless it was something she wanted to do.

“1, 2, 3, 4,” eventually all the numbers blurred together and Lincoln’s voiced droned on and on until she heard the number 20. When she crossed the finish line she collapsed on the ground, rolling over on her back as she wheezed.

“I hate you,” she grumbled as his hand came into view to hoist her off the ground.

“How ever will I continue on through life with you hating me?”

It was sarcasm obviously, but she didn’t care, she responded anyway. “You can make it up to me and get back in my good graces by actually sparring with me. Instead of watching me do useless, boring stuff over and over again.”

“Tell you what, if you can beat me in the ring, then we’ll skip all this boring stuff as you called it and jump right in.”

Now he was speaking her language. Octavia liked placing bets, especially ones that were challenging.

Her eyes twinkled in delight when his arm extended out towards her. Instinctively, she firmly gripped his hand, shaking a little harder than necessary as a smirk slid onto her face. “You’ve got yourself a deal.”

Retracting his hand, he led them over to the unoccupied ring, averting his eyes as Octavia’s ass scrubbed along the rope before fully stepping into the ring. He proceeded to do the same, letting the ropes flop back together once he let go.

His hands came up to surround his face while Octavia remained dumbfounded.

“Wait…no lecture or important informational session before we begin?”

“Thought you wanted to skip all the talking and boring parts?”

A low growl ripped through her throat as he threw her earlier words back at her. She meant she wanted to skip the tedious practice, not that she didn’t really want a bit of guidance. It was too late now; she sure as hell wasn’t going to give him the satisfaction of asking.

“What are the rules?”

“First one to land on their back loses. Think you can handle it?” He hadn’t meant for it to come out sounding so sensual, but Octavia’s eyes sparkled in what appeared to be lust.

“I think I’m quite capable of handling anything you throw at me,” she boasted.

He took that as a dare, initiating the first strike, sending Octavia stumbling backwards almost onto her ass. He watched as she recovered fast. “Thought you said you could handle anything?” His feet progressed towards her, advancing quickly as she blocked the jabs he delivered.

“Yeah,” she huffed, “I meant when I was prepared. Not to strike while I wasn’t looking.”

“While you weren’t paying attention,” he corrected, bringing his arm up to gently connect with the side of her face.

It wasn’t enough of a force to cause her to stumble this time. She could tell he was holding back, which meant she was going to have to be the one to push him if she wanted to make this interesting. Not too hard though because she was hell bent on winning, no matter what it took.

Her go-to moves involved just blindly swinging, putting a lot of oomph into her punches, but some of his words actually sank into her brain. She remembered what he said about control and steadying yourself.

Upon exhaling she extended her arm, roughly flinging it towards his chest, earning a grunt from him when it collided. Still that wasn’t enough to stir up any commotion within his body. She went again, elbow barely clipping his face before he grabbed her arm and twisted it towards her body until she yelped.

Quickly he relented, giving her enough time to pull away and put distance between them. He snapped back into focus, following Octavia’s foot placement as they circled one another like a prey.

It kind of felt like a dance. A heated, passionate, swift dance between two lovers, as they circled around the perimeter of the mat. They created their own music; sounds of ragged breathing and erratic hearts pumping filled the air around them to form a consistent beat. It was a sensual, provocative tune that propelled them forward.

Lincoln was light on his feet, elegant, and fluid, like a ballerina, only a lot more masculine. He was the composition of a song, the structure and form that held it together. Octavia wasn’t nearly as graceful, but not ungainly. She provided the soulful melody. They weren’t equal counterparts, but both had their strengths and both were necessary to compliment one another. A structure could stand alone, but without soul there would be no passion, no melody. Likewise, what was a melody without some sort of form to latch on to and ground it? 

Plus her strengths lied in other aspects, like her ability to catch on to things much faster than Lincoln anticipated. Like earlier she noticed the slightest bit of hesitation in his eyes when he thought for a second he had actually hurt her. She could use this to her advantage if worse came to worst.

She charged forward, intending to use her knee this time, but Lincoln was quicker. His hand shot out, shoving her knee forcefully back to the ground, allowing her to hook left.

Blood collected on his lower lip as his tongue darted out to lick the wound. She couldn’t help but be momentarily distracted, which was not a good thing.

He contorted her arms behind her back, trying to deter her from throwing more punches.

And it did, but then she resorted to using the weight of her body against him as she tried to shove him backwards. She didn’t have nearly enough body weight or power for that, but she did have enough ass to awaken his growing erection. Rearing her head back, she smiled internally, satisfied once she heard him groaning.

Rage took over his body as he flung her hands away, foot connecting with the back of her thigh as he shoved her body a little too hard towards the corner of the ring. 

Her head tipped forward, connecting with the pole as blood consistently dripped from her nose and lip. It wasn’t nearly as bad as some of the other injuries she had sustained. If it had been anyone else, she would’ve wiped the blood off and kept going, but this was an opportunity. She could use this to her advantage, after all, that’s what fighting was about. Gaining the upper hand against your opponent.

Sinking down onto her knees, she cupped the wound, letting a soft whimper escape her mouth. As soon as the noise floated through the air she could see his feet coming closer towards her.

Fuck. He needed to examine the damage and make sure she was okay. Damn it, this is why he said he didn’t want to be the one to teach her. He knew she wasn’t fragile by any means, but when he had enough momentum it was almost physically impossible to stop. He was like a train; those things couldn’t stop on a dime even if they wanted to.

Once he was within grabbing distance, she did exactly that. Letting the hand that was previously cupping her face jut out, latching onto his ankle. The surprise attack was enough to cause him to falter backwards. Relentlessly, she sprang up from her crouched position, not giving him any time to recover from her jerk before she leapt at him.

Her body smacked vigorously against his with just enough pressure to send his crashing onto the mat below. Her knees landed on either side of his frame, hands shooting out to rest against his chest. 

The weight of his body vibrated upon the ground as he immediately came onto his elbows, staring up at her grinning face.

“Well, well, well. Would you like at that. Seems like I’m the winner after all.”

He grinned, shaking his head. “I guess so, which means next time no practice beforehand.”

Victoriously she shoved at his chest after a few minutes, standing up once again. It might have been considered playing dirty, but a win was a win. And technically she played by the rules, seeing as how there was only one.

Heaving his body up slowly, his eyes never left hers as he strutted closer. He smiled when her eyes grew wide for a fraction of a second, not entirely sure what his next move was. “That also means that I won’t be holding back next time either.”

The words blurted from her lips before she could stop them. “We don’t have to cut out all forms of practicing.”

Lincoln let loose a chuckle, turning into a howling laughter when she groaned, realizing her mistake.

She might’ve won the actual fight, but Lincoln was the real winner today, and she was semi okay with that.


End file.
